If Fitness Could Come in a Pill

If Fitness Could Come in a Pill
I kicked my shoes under the bed. If I delay long enough, I thought, we’ll be late, and I won’t have to go. My husband Gary handed me two sneakers and a pair of socks. “Here they are,” he said. I got in the car barefoot, with no makeup, my hair in a rat’s nest, and a grumpy expression on my face. He drove while I laced up the sneakers. Here’s a secret: I haven’t worked out in a long time. Yes, I go for walks, swim a few laps once in a while, even lift weights on rare occasions. But I haven't broken a sweat on a consistent basis in five years. “Do you exercise?” docs always ask when I go for my six-month breast cancer checkups. It’s not exactly a lie when I say “yes” because wandering around the house counts, right? And yes, I do know that exercise is critical to cancer recovery. Shortly after my final chemo session, I remember walking to the post office, a helpful suggestion from a caring, worried husband. I was worried, too. Worried that I wouldn’t make it, that if I had to rest on the curb, it would be embarrassing for me and a hassle for the paramedics called in for the rescue. That I’d wind up in the ER again because of this little walk. I stepped out the door anyway, inching like a centurion with an emaciated face and no hair. Although I felt like a freak show, I made it. That was four
Subscribe or to access all post and page content.

One comment

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.